


And All That Could Have Been

by cloudsurfing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Sixth year-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsurfing/pseuds/cloudsurfing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry never trusted Malfoy, until he did. And now he can only be sure, and tell himself - I can trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All That Could Have Been

Harry operates on instinct. He’s never been one to sit and think about things – to his detriment sometimes, sure, but for some things he will always go on gut feeling. People are one of those things. If he trusts someone, he trusts them. He might fall out and argue and hate them sometimes but trust is something else entirely. He wishes he could say it’s never led him wrong, but he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do short of becoming completely paranoid.

He never trusted Malfoy, until he did. Until he started to understand him, got to know him, every line of him, what the slide of his fingers on Malfoy’s skin feels like. Until after their first desperate, angry kiss, Malfoy pinning him against a windowsill in the Transfiguration corridor, Malfoy’s fingers pressing bruises into his hips to hold him still.

He is still Malfoy, and Harry is still Potter. Malfoy insists that ‘Harry’ is a stupid name, and Harry snaps back the same about ‘Draco’. So that’s two things that never change between them: they are Potter and Malfoy and they are forever arguing.

Harry thinks that he understands Malfoy, now. Enough, at least, to trust him, which is a good job given how embarrassingly quickly it was that Harry fell in love.

So the first time Malfoy doesn’t come to meet him, after curfew in the Room of Requirement, Harry doesn’t even second guess it.

“I fell asleep, Potter. It was the middle of the night, you know.”

It’s not unreasonable. Harry lets it go. And the second time. And the third. Harry starts to think that Malfoy is getting bored with him. It’s not that simple, though, and hindsight is painfully clear.

It’s a Thursday when Harry sees Malfoy going into the Forest. Harry is on his broom, invisibility cloak keeping him secret as he swoops in aimless loops high above ground just because he can, mind wandering and peaceful. He hears a noise from the ground and is brought back to the present all of a sudden, realising how black the night has become, how far from the castle he has drifted. He is turning to go back when he sees someone moving swiftly towards the tree line, hood up so Harry can’t see his face but Harry would recognise that figure anywhere. Malfoy takes a quick glance behind him and enters the Forest. Somewhere deep in the trees something howls, blood curdling, and a flock of birds scatters from the treetops.

Harry shivers and waits. He doesn’t expect Malfoy to be gone for long but Harry thinks he must have been there for hours and is falling asleep on his broom when he finally sees Malfoy heading back to the castle.

Malfoy doesn’t mention it, and Harry doesn’t ask. But he _wonders_ , and his mind supplies a multitude of increasingly outlandish reasons for Malfoy to need to visit the Forbidden Forest after dark. He never imagines close to the real reason, though.

Because Harry trusts him.

~*~

When Malfoy isn’t in the Room of Requirement on Monday, Harry wonders if he should wait - and then he thinks, _what if_. It’s not likely. Why would Malfoy need into go to the Forest again? There’s no reason. But Harry is curious and impatient and he has to know, so he leaves the castle, _Accio Firebolt_ and he’s in the air. It’s a new moon and pitch black, but there’s enough light from the castle windows to see Malfoy leave by a side door and go into the forest at the same point just down from the dead, twisted oak that ventures further into school grounds than the rest.

Harry doesn’t wait, this time, for Malfoy to come back out. Wishing he had thought to bring the invisibility cloak Harry follows him, fingers clenched tight around the handle of his wand as he stays so far back he almost loses Malfoy more than once. It’s probably half an hour’s walk before Harry sees them. Dark cloaks and masks like death, _Morsmordre_ clear on every forearm. When Draco kneels at the centre of the circle, Harry turns and runs for the castle.

~*~

“I couldn’t get away from Pansy, Potter. This is supposed to be a secret, you know, was I supposed to say I couldn’t stop to chat due to a pressing appointment to go and shag the Boy who Lived?”

Harry thinks, I can trust him, I can trust him, I can trust him, but it no longer rings true over what he's seen and what he's heard. His face twists in disgust and furious tears and as he turns and walks away he thinks, _liar_.

~*~

He should tell someone. He imagines Hermione's sympathetic eyes and Ron's I Told You So's that he wouldn't be able to keep to himself and he feels so humiliated for ever believing Malfoy.

Dumbledore has been asking to see him for days now anyway and Harry has been ignoring him, wrapped up in himself and in Malfoy but now he supposes he doesn't have much choice. Harry will go to Dumbledore.

But Harry can't give up on the thought that he's got it wrong, that it wasn't what he thinks. He half hopes he dreamed the whole thing. He can't believe he was that wrong about someone he loves that much.

The whole castle seems tense as he walks down to the entrance to the dungeons that night, anticipatory. It's a hell of a job getting out of the tower; he can't make the fat lady open the door and has to slip out as a group of second years came in. He doesn't see a single person in the corridors, not even a teacher although it's barely after curfew. The whole place seems expectant and Harry can't put his finger on why.

He doesn't have to wait long, and follows Malfoy out as quietly as he can manage. Out of the castle, the shortest line to the dead oak tree and into the forest. Harry remembers the way, and hangs back when they start to get close. He has no idea if Death Eaters can see through an invisibility cloak.

But this isn't the small circle from last time. There are dozens, more arriving every minute or so; broom, thestral, four at once on a magic carpet. That's when he sees Malfoy. Lucius is standing, one hand on his son's shoulder, speaking, and Harry shifts closer so that he can hear, trying to be quiet, keep hidden.

"...and due to _my son's_ efforts," he's saying, and Harry feels hatred pound through him like a heartbeat because Lucius actually sounds _proud_ , “we will have Albus Dumbledore dead at the Dark Lord's feet before daybreak." Harry goes cold. Malfoy's face is entirely expressionless.

Harry had been so, so wrong, confided in the wrong person and he chokes back bile as he thinks about all the things he's done with Malfoy, the things he's _told_ him - things that Malfoy has passed straight on to his father.

Harry has to fix this, he has to warn Dumbledore, and he turns and runs. As fast as he can, stumbling over uneven ground that he can't see in the dark, branches scratching his face, desperate to get back in the open and out of this clinging, claustrophobic place. So when he trips he’s going far too fast to catch himself as he falls, and his head cracks against something unyielding as he hits the ground.

~*~

Harry doesn't think he's been unconscious for very long, but his head is pounding and the world swims around him as he gets to his feet and begins to stumble out of the forest. He had run in a panic and had strayed from the route he had taken before, so when he finally reaches open space and Hogwarts' grounds he is much further from the castle than he had thought.

But he can still see the fighting.

Too far away to see faces, even to guess at who is on which side, but he can see the chaos of spells flying, people collapsing to the ground. Harry's lungs and legs are burning and his head aches still but he forces himself to run for the castle, to the small east entrance around which the fight is centred.

And he arrives, gasping for breath, and feels - useless. It's almost all over, Death Eaters unconscious on the ground far outnumbered by staff and Aurors, and Ron and Hermione, who of course, of _course_ are there looking for him in the trouble. He begins towards them and stops as he sees Malfoy, fighting with his father as Lucius obviously tries to retreat.

Harry sees Malfoy's wand snap under Lucius' boot and then Malfoy finally sees him, and Harry hears him say his name. Not 'Potter' this time, though, just 'Harry', and Harry hates him, blindingly, hates himself for trusting Malfoy.

Harry turns away. Leaves Malfoy for the Aurors. Walks towards Ron and Hermione and staggers a little as Hermione hugs him, so tight, and she'd been so worried.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and wonders how he can possibly ever manage to apologise enough.

~*~

It's hours later, in Dumbledore's study, that Harry sees Malfoy's name on the list of the dead. He stares at it until the letters lose all meaning, become just lines of ink on the parchment. There’s an aching, hollow place in his chest and he doesn’t know if it’s anger at Malfoy’s betrayal or devastation, because Malfoy’s gone. He’s snapped back to the present when he hears Malfoy's name but not - as he expected - in tones of anger, but of the most dreadful dismay.

“I never even thought,” Hermione was saying, “I just assumed - the way he was with Muggleborns, it seemed a foregone conclusion...”

She trails off and Harry tries to find his voice; fails, coughs, and tries again. “What - what's that, Hermione?”

She frowns at him, concerned. “Weren't you listening, Harry? It was Draco. He told Dumbledore when the attack would come, so that the Aurors could be here waiting.” Hermione's face is streaked with tears. “Lucius turned on him when he realised.”

"I never should have asked it of him,” Dumbledore says, solemn and quiet. “He was much too young for such a task.”

Harry hears the words but doesn't understand, plays them over and over in his head. He remembers outside, Malfoy's wand snapping, remembers Malfoy saying his name and now he sees - _now_ , too late, he sees the naked desperation on Malfoy's face and the way he had said, “Harry”.

Malfoy had turned to _him_. When there was nothing else to fight with Malfoy had trusted that Harry would save him.

Harry thinks his bones may be turning to dust as his legs give up and he drops to the floor. As all the pieces slot together and he comprehends what he has done. As he finally and far too late understands what his trust has bought him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for a while. For Perci xxx


End file.
